Work Text:
I'm just a constant headache
A tooth out of line
They try to make you regret it you tell them no not this time
I'm just a constant headache
A dead pet device
You hang me up, unfinished, with the better part of me no longer mine
Sadie thought she had enough of this already.
Ever since he walked into the Big Donut she knew that Lars would be the death of her. He was slender but lumbering, built like a frail, dead tree hunched over from a harsh blizzard but still standing somehow. She liked that about him. She liked that she already knew that he was delicate and strong all at once. Lars was a living embodiment of a oxymoron and she instantly hated the part that he showed but was drawn to what he would not expose. He had more than the job the moment he walked into the empty donut shop.
Sadie thought by now it was fair to assume that if people spend enough time together, they are bound to develop feelings for one another. Not necessarily fond or romantic feelings, but solid opinions at the very least. Lars and Sadie spent every day together for long stretches of time at the Big Donut. They shared every awkward silence, customer complaint, random mishap, slow day, early morning, late night, joking session, oyster cracker, accidental touch, unprompted secret, unexpected outburst, regretful glance, half-assed apology. They shared it all. She felt like she knew him inside out and had a fretful inkling that he deeply did not want her to. Besides him, her mom and Steven were the only other people she could roughly describe as her friends. With this crude survey sample, she was beginning to believe that the only way she would ever build relationships was through Stockholm Syndrome.
Maybe that was sad, but to be honest, she didn't mind it. Or at least, she would take what she could get in this small, quaint tourist trap that didn't actually trap any tourists, Beach City. Though the waves were a sight to behold, lapping shimmering blues and soft foams against the white shores, she spent most of her time inside. Not because she wanted to, but because she had to work to help her mom pay the bills and when work was done she had nothing better to do but sleep. People would never assume that a job with one to two customers could be so exhausting, but for some reason, it was. Doing nothing was worse than being kept too busy. The little to no energy required goes nowhere like a balloon slowly deflating. Deflating with Lars was better than expiring alone.
Lars didn't seem to appreciate the scenic retreat much either. This poor beach. A beauty so highly revered was so entirely wasted on its ungrateful residents. Then again, Lars didn't seem to appreciate much of anything. He claimed to hate most things, and if he didn't hate them then he felt nothing. Lars didn't seem to hate her.
She didn't know why he needed the job or what he was going to do with the money. He would make up an answer every time she asked. Bills, travel, concerts, events, babes, video games- she believed video games at first. It was easy to talk about video games with him. He loved video games so much he stole them from the only video game store in town until he got caught. He claimed that his good looks, which Sadie translated to his desperate groveling, got him out of an arrest but he was most certainly banned from ever returning to his favorite store. While the story was entertaining, Sadie wondered that if he went so far as to steal his favorite things, where were his paychecks going toward?
Maybe the money went toward his clothes piling up in every corner of his room, but they might have only been occupying so much space because his drawers were broken from stuffing them with magazines for no one's eyes but his to see. She wish she hadn't seen them. She can't remember how many times she has and thought about how she'll never be like that and how could she trust someone who finds that kind of disgusting perfection satisfying? That's normal though, isn't it? Who is she to judge? How much can she expect from a teenage boy who only looks her way when no one else is? Maybe that's where the money went.
She wanted to stay curious, not mad, because in the end it didn't matter what he spent on or what he did when she wasn't around. She wanted to treasure the times he let her be around, not mash every button and nearly break his controller to send him to his collapse on screen then play it off with a laugh as he screams. She scratched the back of her head with a wince pretending not to find solace at his expense. He growled. He tossed the controller enough to snap her back to reality, not enough to be dangerous but enough to strike guilt into her that she quickly shoved to the back of her mind. They couldn't both lose all the time.
"Come on, Lars." She coaxed, innocently. She nudged his temper with a playful elbow of good sportsmanship.
"Whatever. I don't wanna play this stupid, outdated game anyways." He brushed her off and walked away, like always.
He sat down on the edge of his bed. Blankets spilled in every direction. The game was not outdated, only a year or two old, but a new one was coming out soon that he would do anything to get his hands on. So, of course this one was boring to him. Of course he would take any win she got and find something to blame it on.
"Okay," She said, just like she always did, "What do you want to do now?"
"I dunno," He shrugged lackadaisically, "Watch a movie?"
She looked around the room until she spotted a glass, prism bookcase. The title of the object was obsolete because it held no books at all. In their place were rows of DVDs, video games, CDs and VHS tapes.
"What do you have?" She asked as she scanned through the labels. She could see just fine but perhaps he had a preference or suggestion.
"Scary stuff," He said, and although she wasn't looking at him she heard the smirk dripping off his words. It excited her.
"Oh!" She exclaimed once she found a tape that she recognized.
"What?" Lars asked teasingly, "You scared?"
"No," Sadie said, unenthused by his nigh offensive assumption, "I love horror. I have part seven of this at home."
She showed him the tape she was referring to, Organ Pickler.
"Part seven?" He gawked, "You've gotta be kidding me. It got so lame after part four. They focused way too much on the story- I don't care about the message I just want to see little Timmy get his limbs rearranged with his organs!"
"Part seven is the good one!" She defended, "I'm telling you, you've gotta watch it."
"Well, maybe you can show me someday..." Sadie couldn't help that the hint of suggestion in Lars' soft voice made her heart skip a beat. When she caught his gaze he looked away and she had to do the same in order to keep breathing. He spoke again, this time begrudgingly which revealed to her the surface of her flooding emotions, "Might as well watch the first one then."
After some maneuvering, Army of War was replaced with imminent gore. Sadie looked shyly at Lars, not sure what to do with herself while the trailers played. It was getting late. He got up and tugged on the pull-chain by the exposed bulb hooked up to the slanted wooden ceiling. Darkness swathed the attic, except for the dim glow of the TV and the sparkling stars outside the window. The screen illuminated Sadie's skin, painting her like a porcelain doll. The screen flashed with red. It beamed over Lars' body and lit his reddish curls aflame. Since he was so tall, shadows filled in lines under his eyes and nose and jaw, sculpting him like a devil. He grinned at Sadie's furtive glances from the screen to him.
"You sure you can handle this?" He tested.
She did not know what he meant specifically. The scary movie, most logically, but yet her mind wandered. Could she handle the dark? The bed? The flashing lights in his hair and on his skin? The treacherous look in his eyes and in his smile? His hands? The way that his body moved, towering above her? How his shirt came up when he fell down onto the blankets and exposed his ribs? Could she handle seeing every bone through his skin and for some reason, wanting to touch him? Maybe to see if he knew or if he was okay or just to see how he felt or how he'd react. Maybe she'd tell him. Maybe she'd be stuck here forever, staring at a boy who doubted her constitution around him. Maybe he was right to. She hoped it wasn't written on her face. Did the boy know he was killing her with every little movement both intimidating and fragile? Could he handle her caring so much she could burst? Could she handle bursting at the decision to sit on the floor instead of answer?
"You can sit up here, you know." He said, killing her slowly. Did he know? Did he care? Did she? No.
So, she joined him on the bed. She leaned against the wood of the bed frame. A bed has so many implications. What would her mom think if she saw this? She'd be grounded. Lars' parents weren't home. He should be grounded. But no one would see this. Only her. She was so lucky to be experiencing something so formidable with someone who up until now she believed was forbidden. How close should she sit to him? Even the safest distance seemed dangerous. Lars was not a wild animal. He would not suddenly maul her if she got too close. Still, she was afraid of him and what would happen to their relationship if she made a wrong decision, or a right one. There probably was no right decision when it came to fancying him. He laughed and she wasn't sure if it was at the movie or at her.
Her thighs were inches away from his torso sprawled out on the mattress. She tried to focus on the movie but that was impossible with someone so new lying next to her. This wasn't the Lars she knew. Lars wasn't relaxed. He didn't idly chuckle or find contentment in her presence. He was a gem. Not like how Steven was a gem, but if this attic was a cave then Lars was the single coruscating crystal that Sadie so fortuitously discovered. He was lanky, his gums showed and eyes slanted when he smiled, his bones stuck out, there wasn't a single strand of facial or body hair to be found, and god he was special. She was so lucky to witness him this way. What did she do to deserve to gaze at someone so uniquely handsome?
He was too absorbed in the film to notice her tracing his every outline. Sadie smiled. She knew the world continued on without them, that other people had more adventurous lives and important stories- she was Steven's friend after all. And yet nothing could compare to the simple greatness of this moment. Lars and Sadie, all alone, under the glow of a movie they had both already seen. In the inches between them an invisible string of tension shone. She covered it and her fingers brushed against him ever so slightly. He didn't move. She saw out of place skin-colored hard edges under a sliver of his shirt. It made no sense for there to be bones sticking out in the middle of his chest and on top of his ribs. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was gauze. Was Lars hurt?
"Hey," She interrupted the actor's dialogue on the screen but otherwise broke the silence and asked the boy that lied next to her, "Are you okay?"
He raised one brow at her, "Yeah, why?"
"Right here on your ribs," She pointed but didn't dare to touch, "It looks like its covered in bandages."
Lars pulled his shirt down and shot up, scrambling away from her to the opposite end of the bed. His face paled.
Sadie cocked her head to the side, confused and a bit perturbed, and she asked carefully, "Did something happen?"
Lars regained his composure and said, "Um, yeah. I, uh, got stitches."
"On your chest?" She confirmed.
He nodded. Why was he being so elusive?
"How? What happened?" Sadie probed with more concern coloring her voice. When she scooted closer to him he backed away.
"Nothing happened!"
He glowered at her. The expression was almost comically made more intense from the dramatic lighting. He covered his chest by holding his arms tightly. She knew he was lying but didn't understand why. She thought he trusted her by now. That hurt, but maybe he hurt more.
"You can tell me, Lars. I'm not going to judge you or anything..." She said earnestly.
"I..." He trailed off, considering it for a split second only to shut his eyes tight as if to block her out. He shouted, "I tripped! And fell. On a knife- I don't wanna talk about it!"
"What the heck?" Sadie said in disbelief, "That sounds really serious!"
"It's not!" He said sternly, "I'm fine. Why do you care?"
His words baffled Sadie.
"Because I'm your friend?" She said with an incredulous gesture.
Lars kept his arms wrapped around himself, turned his back on her to face the movie and slumped down where he was sitting. He told her, "Just forget it."
"Okay." She said defensively.
What the hell was that all about? She clenched her fists and her mind fumed with frustration. He doesn't have to be so touchy around her. People fall, it's not a big deal. She can think of a handful of times she tripped and fell. It happens.
Although, looking back on it, those times were pretty embarrassing. She fell in a really important soccer game once. It wasn't half as important to her as it was to her teammates but no one regarded the sport with as much undying importance as her mother did. Her mom had forced her to go to the championships so at that point Sadie had lost all interest in the activity altogether, like usual. Even so, tripping on the ball in front of everyone when she was supposed to be making a goal still sucked. Of course, her mom made it worse by screaming and rushing to her side as if her precious daughter had just been shot. The kids all laughed, of course they did, how could they not find a manic mother phoning 911 over someone who merely got the wind kicked out of them hilarious? That's probably how Lars felt right now: humiliated.
She reached out to comfort him and when she made contact with his shoulder he jumped at the sudden touch.
"Hey..." She whispered bashfully, "You're right. It's not a big deal. I was just making conversation, really. That's all."
His boney shoulders rose and fell in a quiet sigh. His eyes burned holes into the screen.
That didn't help. Sadie searched for a change of subject. She looked at the movie.
"Oh, did you know there's a continuity error here?" Lars didn't respond.
She continued anyways, "See, look- when he's holding the knife it's in his right hand but when they switch the angle-" The movie played in perfect timing with her narration and she laughed, "There! It's in his left hand! Some people say he's ambidextrous but I think the director would do anything it takes to make sure a weapon appeared in every single shot."
The screen went black in an instant.
Sadie sheepishly glanced at Lars. The remote fell out of his hand and onto the sheets. She couldn't believe it. Lars turned the TV set off entirely. Silence surrounded the two.
Lars cursed, "What the fuck is the point if you already know?"
Her heart dropped to her stomach. She smiled nervously, beside herself, "I like this movie. I don't mind watching it a second time, especially with somebody else. It's different that way, even though I already know what happens. I'll stop talking if that's what you want."
"You know what I mean."
He didn't even look at her. He stared straight ahead at nothing.
Sadie had no idea what he meant.
He added grimly, "You don't have to pretend like you're okay with it."
She's been here before. Not in his room, but trapped in this prison of uncertainty that he built. She couldn't leave him after his vague accusations but she wasn't sure how to proceed gently, or whether or not she should. She liked when Lars would show her sides of him that no one else got to see, but this was torture. He turned off, like a light switch, and left her blind in his darkness. Just once she'd like to flip a switch, pull a chord, clap twice, press a button- whatever it would take to see him shine. It felt like no matter what she tried, he wouldn't even flicker. What's worse is the blame was always heaved onto her until Lars' next power outage. Sadie was sick of this weight, truthfully. She didn't have the patience for this theatrical, dead end back and forth anymore. Either he could tell her point blank what was on his mind like any normal friend would do- not that she knew what it was like to have a normal friend- or he could shut her out entirely. She dug her fingers in her blonde waves.
She pushed past her cold feet and raised her voice, "What are you talking about? Just spit it out!"
She surprised herself when her voice didn't waver along with the rest of her shaking body. She wasn't the only one she shocked.
Lars matched her intensity. He looked daggers into her and said loudly, "Me!"
"What about you?" She begged.
"You know!"
He still couldn't manage to elucidate. She wanted to stubbornly shake the answer out of the cumbersome boy but she stopped herself and honestly pondered if she knew what on earth he was alluding to if only to make things easier for herself. She compiled a list of things she knew about Lars that may spark the cause for outrage.
She knew Lars hated Beach City. She didn't much care for it either.
She knew Lars showed up late for work every day and faked his way out of more challenging maintenance. She had him make up for that by forcing him to cover for her while she watched Canine Court in the break room, so they were even.
She knew Lars was using her.
She knew he was using her. She wasn't stupid.
It's not like she didn't notice when they were all alone in the Big Donut how he would tickle and poke her, but the second a customer walked in it was as if she suddenly developed an electric charge that zapped him across the room. She knew he didn't want other people to see him so much as sharing the same air with someone as lowly as her. That's why it was nice to be alone with him here. The fear of customers walking in on them washed away along with his "cool guy" facade. He was always so tensed up and on edge; it was refreshing to watch his shoulders drop and a rare smile shine through his cloudy disposition. She could only imagine that it must have felt good for him as well.
But the storm lingered, rapping at the doors in the back of her mind. She would never let the bad thoughts in, but it was only a matter of time before Lars invited them.
She wasn't good enough for him. She wasn't pretty like the models in his magazines littered across his bedroom floor. She didn't have the ideal standard of beauty. She wasn't thin or curvy enough for him, she didn't cake on the perfect amount of makeup for him, she didn't fit into revealing enough clothes for him. It would be embarrassing for him to go around in public with her miles under his arm. How was he supposed to get in with the cool kids if there was nothing cool about the girl he spent all his time with? She was okay with how she looked and who she was, but she knew he wasn't. His image would always be more important to him than her. And yet, despite knowing all of this, he keeps coming back to her and she keeps saying yes. She would never be enough for him, but she could never get enough of him.
He made her laugh, more than she can ever remember. He always came into work with some new, negative commentary about the world and the people that live in it that she couldn't agree with more. If he had the same confidence he showed around her with everybody, she believed that Lars could make a living as a dark stand-up comedian. It wouldn't be for everybody, but she'd get a kick out of it. Although, sometimes she cynically wondered if he had a bit centered entirely around her. She was nothing but a big joke to him, after all.
She sighed, "Okay. I guess I might as well say it, since you seem to really want to hear it."
His expression softened.
She met his eyes and said, "You're right, Lars. I know what you're doing to me. And I know it might sound crazy and don't get me wrong, I hate to admit it but... I like you." He was visibly floored. She had to look away from the dumbfounded look on his face, "You can be a huge jerk but I know that there's a special part of you that you only show me. I like that part a lot and I don't want to stop seeing it so if that means only hanging out with you in private then I'll take it. Because, I like you. I like the real you."
Sadie's mild relief was met with instant regret when Lars stood up and shouted loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear, "You don't know the real me!"
She felt as if she had just been struck. The room around her melted away until all she could see was Lars' scowl burning into her soul and his heavy breathing grating against her ears. After all they have shared he still didn't trust her. She still wasn't good enough, even here where there was nobody else to judge him. He yelled so loud it was as if he wanted the whole world to hear that he would never let her in. She didn't know what she did wrong to deserve this. She meant absolutely nothing to him no matter how much she tried.
Her face heated up. Her breath shortened. She couldn't stop the hot tears from burning down her cheeks. She ran to the trap door, away from the monster she thought she knew. She didn't hear him call her name. He had no need for her. She swung the door ajar, but it bounced back off of a pile discarded jeans and shirts. Just another piece of one gigantic mess that is Lars' room and life. The force she put into her swing sent the door slamming down onto her fingers. She screamed in pain as she quickly yanked them back and held her injured hand to her chest. She gave up. She dropped to her knees and sobbed, feeling egregiously pathetic, trapped, and hurt.
"Why are you doing this to me?" She gasped between sobs, "What is wrong with you?"
Lars sucked in a huge breath and cried to the ceiling, "I'm trans!"
Sadie's eyes widened, tears still dripping down. The pain in her fingers was numbed by the shock of his confession. She turned to face him and saw his bloodshot eyes and huge tears flooding down his cheeks and onto the floor. The sight broke her heart. He was a wreck about this. He heaved in sticky breaths and whimpered. He sobbed into his elbow. He lost the strength to hold himself up and collapsed to the floor in a heap of sorrow.
Sadie wiped her own tears and nose and crawled toward him. She whispered, "Lars, I had no idea."
"What do you mean?" He managed through sniveling, muffled due to his hands shielding his face, "You saw."
"Saw what? What do you mean?"
He glared at her through his slim fingers. With a sniff, he vindictively lifted his shirt. Underneath, gauze was wrapped tightly around his entire chest. Lars said he had sutures, but... Sadie wished she had realized sooner. He was using the bandages as binding.
"Oh, Lars..." She smiled at him, eyes still watery, "That never would have even crossed my mind."
"You mean I told you for nothing?" He said angrily. He pulled his shirt down.
"No, no. I'm really glad you told me. I'm glad you opened up to me. This is the part I like about you." She gently reached for his hands.
He shoved her away. "You like this part? I hate this part! I'm trying to get rid of it!"
"I didn't mean-" She huffed in a desperate attempt to clarify, "I love you for who you are, not what parts you have."
His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. "What? Do you want, like, a medal?"
The words hit her like an arrow to the chest. She opened and closed her mouth, floundering for something to say. She wanted to make him feel validated, not make herself feel aggrandized. But maybe that wasn't the point.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to say." She confessed hopelessly.
He clumsily stood only to unceremoniously flop face down onto his bed and groan, "Then don't say anything."
Sadie put a hand over her thumping heart. How could she have possibly known that this is what was keeping him at bay? It wasn't about her after all. She couldn't help feeling a bit selfishly upset. If he had told her sooner then she might have understood so many other misconceptions about his behavior. All the times he called off of work, ditched her, stood her up, and never being able to give a believable excuse. She might have been able to help him. But it probably wasn't easy to tell someone about something so deeply rooted in his identity. She wished she would have known but understood why he never told her until now. Now what was she supposed to say? Before she could get the chance to come up with something, he spoke first.
"I was supposed to be getting top surgery right now." He grumbled.
"Oh?" She picked herself off of the floor to address him more seriously. She had to choose her words carefully. She did not want to miss another chance of him opening up to her, whether she deserved it or not. "What happened?"
"Stupid missing paperwork or money or something. Got delayed. I threw out all my binders 'cause I didn't think I'd need them anymore. That was dumb, but don't think I'm an idiot, okay? I don't normally do it this way." She assumed he was referring to binding with ace bandages.
So that's where the money went.
"I would never think that you were dumb. If anyone's the dumb one it's me." She shrugged with an anxious chuckle.
"Well, don't baby me either!" Lars complained.
That got a small laugh out of Sadie. She apologized.
"S'okay." Lars lifted his head on his pillow and looked wistfully out the window. He quietly asked, "Does this mean you feel differently about me?"
"No." She said almost instantly, "Why would anything be different?"
He buried his head back into the pillows so that she could only barely make out his suppressed words, "I don't know..."
She chanced delicately placing her hand on his back. He didn't flinch this time, his body almost corpse-like. She could just barely feel the ridges of the gauze hidden underneath his shirt. She rubbed her thumb soothingly down his poky spine and felt him breathe slow.
"I still like you, " She admitted, tenderly, "That will probably never change.
He perked up, ginger hair bouncing with the sudden rise of his head, "Really? I mean..." He sat up and crossed his arms, "Well, duh. Of course you do."
There was the Lars she remembered. He was a big goofball.
"Do you still wanna watch the rest of the movie?" He asked with a gummy grin.
"Sure." She nodded.
He grabbed the remote and offered it to her in a way where she had no other option but to slide closer to him in order to retrieve it. She caught his gaze and he stared at her with half lidded eyes, still pink and swollen from crying only minutes ago. When she took the remote their fingers brushed together. He held tight, letting their hands linger for a moment before she could take it. Her eyes flicked from the remote back to him in questioning. He smirked and she nearly died. She turned around to face the TV and pressed the button. The movie resumed. It was further ahead from when they last left off, but it's not like they missed out on something they hadn't already seen.
All at once, Lars pulled Sadie into his lap and wrapped his lithe arms around her. She gasped, apparently having forgotten how to breathe for that entire duration. He rested his chin on top of her head. She guessed this is how they would be watching the movie now. Lars was warm but his hands were cold. They cooled her temperature, which was rising by the second. She felt safe. She felt alive. Her heart beat faster and she snuggled into him. He held her hand that was bruising from the door slam earlier. She had nearly forgotten about that. His icy thumb stroked therapeutic circles around her pale skin. There was that sweetness she cherished. Now that she was enveloped in him, she noticed that his breath seemed labored to some degree. She wanted to make him feel safe, too.
"What day did your surgery get delayed to?" She spoke over the movie neither of them were paying much attention to.
She felt him shrug behind her, "I dunno, have to reschedule. Hopefully soon."
"Well, let me know," She said, "I want to be there."
"Huh?" He processed her words a second time, "Eh, thanks, Sadie, but I would rather you didn't come to that."
"Oh, uh," She shied away from his touches slightly, "I get it."
He sighed, "I get that you wanna support me and all, but I'd feel better if you didn't know so many details, okay? I kind of just want you to see me when I'm...” He froze at a loss of how to describe what he meant and for lack of a better term said, “Better."
"Oh, of course." She was happy with that, "Can you at least tell me so that I can prepare for work, though? You'll probably need a while to recover, right?"
"What do you need to prepare? It's not like the donuts have to actually be made." He argued. He had a point.
"Well, it's just nice to know, I guess..." She would like to know when to record Canine Court or whether or not she could afford to skip a shower but it's not that big of a deal. She slumped into him and said, "Fine. You don't have to tell me. I'll work it out."
"Thanks, Sadie." He hugged her from behind. She blushed. She hated that it was so easy for him to win her over, but it was inevitable at this point. He lowered his voice next to her ear which sent chills down her spine, "You know... To be honest, Sadie, I think I like you too."
She flashed a skeptical look up to him, "You think?" His body tensed. She removed herself from his grasp. His arms fell to his sides and she rubbed the invisible imprints they left. "Lars, you don't have to like me back."
"But, I do!" He stammered, "I have. For a while, actually... I think about you pretty much every day..." He ran his fingers through his hair. Blush formed on his cheeks and he bit his lip. It warmed Sadie's heart but she was still doubtful that this wouldn't all change tomorrow. He'd go back to being the cold, aloof douchebag who acts like he's never confessed to anything sweet in his life.
"Well, you see me pretty much every day at work." She said in an attempt to snap him back to reality.
"That might have something to do with it." He said sarcastically, squinting his eyes as if he had just come to that realization.
She gave him a half-playful, half-serious shove.
So he was a slave to Stockholm Syndrome too, then.
She thought she had enough of this.